


A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes

by markipwiwer



Series: Tumblr Requests [85]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Blood, Comfort, Flashbacks, M/M, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 17:15:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17370116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/markipwiwer/pseuds/markipwiwer
Summary: “Please father, we need more Dr. Iplier and Host content. Please I'm begging you. I've run out of things to read on AO3 and I haven't slept in 3 days. I think I'm going through withdrawal ...why is there no content... for this fuc kin g sh i p go damni t.... . ..“- frankkylou





	A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes

Edward and The Host has been sharing a small, cramped old double bed that the doctor had salvaged from that spooky old cabin in the woods. Although it wasn’t particularly comfortable, The Host seemed much more content sleeping on it than a regular bed or, God forbid, one of Edwards hospital beds.

The springs in this mattress stuck into Edwards back, but he didn’t mind since the Host slept so soundly in it. He said the smell reminded him of something old and homely. They both knew, in the loosest definition of the word, where it had come from and why it seemed familiar, but the past was so far behind them that it didn’t seem to matter much, especially not that they had each other.

The mattress didn’t have a base either, nor a bed frame. It sat on the ground, just in front of The Hosts make shift desk, surrounded by hundreds of notebooks, a few dozen old, broken down radios pulled apart for the sake of salvaging parts, a few old microphones here and there that had long ago been made obsolete, and this was just how The Host likes it sometimes.

It was a spare room in the manor, secluded away, near the entrance to the basement. It leaked in a couple of places. The doctor let him have it though because he made sure The Host slept in his newer, neater, much more hygienic room for the majority of the time. The dust in here must have been horrible for The Hosts lungs, and with the mold creeping in at the corners, Edward didn’t want The Hosts eyes to get infected - if they were even capable.

The Hosts eyes didn’t act like open wounds most of the time. But sometimes they’d bleed.

Like right now.

Edward woke up to a strange warm, damp feeling on his chest and at first, considering his boyfriend was lying on his chest seemingly sound asleep, he thought it might have been drool.

That’s adorable. If a little gross.

The doctor looked down lovingly at The Host sleeping sound and - oh.

That was significantly less adorable. And a little gross.

It would have been fine if it wasn’t right on Edwards bare chest but that was rather strange and morbid and he hadn’t had much experience yet with The Hosts strange powers. Although he had picked up in his years of doctoring that blood usually means bad. Usually.

Unsure of how to handle the situation, Edward began to sit up, listing The Hosts head and that shifted him just enough to be jolted awake, and he screamed, his voice cracking into something young and desperate.

“I - I CAN’T SEE! FUCK, WHERE ARE MY EYES, FUCK, I CAN’T -“

He was hyperventilating and blood was flowing down his face at such a rapid pace that it completely soaked his bandages, running down onto his lips.

When he couldn’t find words, his screams were bloodcurdling, and Edward had a hard time finding his bearings having basically been awoken by the chaos. But then, it seemed, his love and adoration kicked in more than his doctoring skills, and he simply held The Host as still as he could.

The Host was thrashing and trying to feel for eyes that hadn’t been there for God knows how long, and it broke the doctors heart, but he whispered to The Host anyway, knowing his hearing was often sensitive to the point of pain when waking up from nightmares.

“Shh, it’s alright, everything going to be okay, I’m right here baby...”

The Hosts breathing was still staggered, as was his speech, but he struggled less against Edwards bear hug.

“I can’t... I can’t see, Doc, I can’t see...”

That was a nickname Edward hadn’t heard in a while, and he wanted to sob. The Host sounded so sad and lost in the darkness that he’d gotten used to while being with the doctor. 

But Edward continues to hold him, running his hand up and down his partners back, talking to him gently and asking him questions to bring him back down to the ground again.

“Hey. Listen to me. What’s my name?”

“Doc.”

“No. You know what I mean. My real name.”

He hesitated. Like he didn’t want to say the answer out loud.

“Ed. Edward.”

His breathing was slow and steady now, and Edward didn’t need to hold him nearly as tight, instead running a hand through his hair as he rubbed his back.

“And what’s your name?”

There was deafening silence. Not a sniffle or a short gasp of air.

“I -“

“Think about it, dear. What’s your name?”

If the good doctor knew anything about his partners wellbeing, it was that he wasn’t okay until he was talking in the third person.

More silence, and then the blood stopped flowing as they sat up together, properly.

“The... The Host apologises for his outburst.”

Edward shook his head.

“No. Don’t apologise. Please. I just want to help. I’m glad you’re okay... or as okay as you can be, all things considered.”

“But, The Host shouldn’t still be having these dreams, it’s utterly ridiculous -“

“Excuse me, but my professional opinion as your doctor is that The Host is experiencing trauma and his experiences are completely normal. And, as your doctor, I prescribe you cuddles.”

With that, Edward wrapped The Host in his arms again and nuzzles in close, not being bothered with smearing blood on his face, in his hair, wherever.

The Host sighed with content, struggling to find the motivation to resist and fight.

“Does... does the good doctor prescribe kisses as well?”

Edward had to smirk into the crook of The Hosts neck, and he giggled.

“Hmm. I might have to pull some strings back at the office, and there will be an awful lot of paperwork. But for you, I’ll manage.”

**Author's Note:**

> Have you got an idea or a request for a fic? Come shoot me a message at markipwiwer.tumblr.com!
> 
> If you like what I do, please consider supporting me at www.ko-fi.com/markipwiwer!


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